


We Face Our Enemy Together

by Falcolmreynolds



Series: Legends of Mythweald: Story of the Night Guard [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: (quite literally), D&D, Dragons, Gen, High Fantasy, Magic, Queer Character, Trans Male Character, the other half of the campaign is here!, we got some new characters in this game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:26:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24678403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falcolmreynolds/pseuds/Falcolmreynolds
Summary: The Night Guard's story continues. You, at the end of the tale, already know what happens - you know how this ends. But you don't know the details. Not yet. Read on.
Series: Legends of Mythweald: Story of the Night Guard [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1368064
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	We Face Our Enemy Together

**Author's Note:**

> This journal of Tam's is newer than the last, but equally as dense, packed with drawings, sketches, footnotes, and pieces of the story he added in after the fact. It is slightly burnt on some of the pages, the leather cracked as if it had been exposed to intense heat.

Clean spring air blew in through the open window of the inn room. Val sat with one leg dangling on the window seat, leaning on one hand to stare outside, the other idly tossing a dagger up and catching it again. Flick, spin, the blade glittered, and he caught the hilt, again and again. He wasn’t even looking.

Manny coughed into one fist, clearing his throat to get Val’s attention. “You know the courier said they’d be here today,” he said, to Val.

“I’m aware,” Val said.

“Sssssssoooooo,” Manny said, dragging the word out as he leaned to the side to try and put himself in Val’s line of sight, “do you want to, like, come and… meet them?”

The dagger’s edge flashed. Val caught it again. “I suppose,” he said, and slipped the dagger back into its sheath on his belt. He swung around and stood from the window seat, rearranging his cape as he did so.

Tam nodded to him as he moved past. Val sighed.

It had been about two weeks. The courier – a bird, sent with magic under its wings – had made it to Elder Vale and back again, and told them that the Heroes’ Guild was sending not one, but two proven Heroes to replace Alfo, and that the Guard was to wait in Osden until their new companions arrived. There had been no word on Alfo’s whereabouts or wellbeing. Total silence.

It was now time for the newcomers to join them. The Guild hadn’t said anything more than “two proven Heroes,” so none of the Guard knew who they were. Tam hoped they were, for lack of a better word, compatible with Val and Manny. He knew he himself would likely have no problems; whoever showed up just had to leave him to his business, and they would get along just fine.

He followed Val and Manny down the stairs. It had been a very quiet two weeks. They’d gone through Alfo’s possessions – as Val had expected, they did find a few small vials of various poisons hidden in the interior pocket of a spare fur cloak. This discovery had not been unexpected, but Val had still gone quiet when he uncovered them, rolling the brown tinted glass between his slender fingers.

“I’ll take these,” he’d said, and carefully transferred them to the Bag of Holding.

They headed outside. Tam had spent the past two weeks exploring the forested areas of Osden, and to his surprise, Val had come with him sometimes, getting a feel for the place. Many times Tam had thought he’d lost his cousin out in the woods, only to discover that Val was simply holding still, hidden in a patch of shadow or a wisp of fog.

Manny had been busy talking to old friends, it seemed, and to his parents – adoptive parents, of course, as neither of them were yuan-ti, and his sister definitely wasn’t here. There were no more attempts on his life, nor on anyone else’s. Absolutely nothing had happened.

Around noon, Tam – who was sitting in the middle of the forest, watching through the eyes of his birds – spotted a ferry headed across the fjord, towards the island. He blinked his eyes open and stood slowly, leaning on his staff, before heading back into town.

His creatures found the other two, and drew them to him; a raven for Manny, and a rat for Val. Both Guard members met with Tam in the central square, where they waited. Val squinted occasionally around at the streets leading into it, muttering nothing to himself and fiddling with his cloak. _He’s nervous, among other things_.

When the figures finally appeared, Tam looked them over, observing them carefully. Both wore heavy metal plate armor. _Replacements for Alfo, indeed._

Manny’s face lit up. “Oh!” he said, and then waved both arms. “Hey! Hey, over here!”

The shorter of the figures glanced over, then waved back and hurried their way. “Hello!” he called, when they drew near. “Hello, Manny! We didn’t know _you_ were going to be here!”

Tam looked the two over. The shorter of the two was a cheerful-looking man, perhaps in his early fifties, with bright white hair and a curled moustache. The scarf he wore around his neck, cushioning his armor, was bright yellow, with tiny white designs of flowers, and on his right hand he wore a sturdy-looking, slightly battered golden wedding ring.

The other was nearly as tall as Tam, a plain-looking woman with scraggly brown hair that hung around her chin. Her armor was slightly dented. On her hip hung a sword, the tip almost dangling to the ground, the hilt extending out just enough to be noticeable. Her cloak, pinned into her armor, was a bright red. Not the rich scarlet that Val’s cloak was, but a brighter yet somehow less striking hue; it seemed almost washed-out, like it blended into the surroundings. Slung over her back as well, underneath the cloak but still visible, was the rounded surface of a shield. She said nothing, and seemed almost a little nervous to be there.

Each of them had a belt that caught Tam’s eye, not only for the fact that they looked slightly out of place, but because of the magic that radiated off them. The old man’s belt was angular, bronze and silver and white enamel, in geometric patterns with some kind of dwarven rune in the center. The woman’s belt was about the same size, but made of dark leather, with stitched red embroidery in seemingly random patterns. When Tam looked closer, though, he realized they were Primordial symbols, speaking of the depths of a world that had no sun or moon but only the endless, seething planes of flame.

“I know these guys,” Manny said, drawing Tam’s attention back to the situation at hand. He looked back to the Guard. “These are –“

“Klauk Bauman, recently out of retirement,” the man said, with a bow. His voice was loud and boistrous. “Ever delighted to meet you!”

The woman looked to Klauk, then to the Guard. “I’m Celeste,” she said. “Celeste Hornraven. I’m a fighter.”

Both of them reached to their throats and produced the silver dragon pendant of the Heroes’ Guild. Tam’s dangled off the end of his staff; he held it forth, and Val and Manny showed theirs.

“Baron Valerian Redwyne, first of his name,” Val said, and bowed, sweeping his cape out with a flourish. Though his movements were polite and practiced, his voice was flat and suspicious. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.” He held out a hand, and Klauk shook it immediately, with a wide smile. Celeste was a little less enthusiastic, and Val very carefully disguised a wince when she took his hand. “That’s Tam,” he said, nodding to Tam. “Tamerlane Redwyne, my cousin, druid of the Circles.”

Tam bowed his head, but did not offer a hand. Usually, people didn’t want to touch him anyway; too many bugs for their tastes.

“You already know me,” Manny said, with a shrug.

“ _About_ that. How?” Val asked, voice carrying the slightest hint of accusation. “Where do you know him from?”

“It’s Manny,” Klauk said, as if it were obvious.

“Everyone knows Manny,” Celeste added.

“…right,” Val said, closing his eyes for a moment; Tam saw his hand twitch, as if he’d gone to rub the bridge of his nose, but stopped himself. “Of course! Sure. Well, we have your names, but I’d like to ask: exactly who _are_ you?”

“I’m a cleric of Lliira,” Klauk said, tapping one hand on his armor. “Her Ladyship of Joy! Used to be part of the Crestline Crusaders, but I retired a few years back.”

“The what,” Val said.

“Ah, the Crusaders… you’ve never heard of us? Well, that’s understandable, it’s been a little while since the group disbanded.” He sighed fondly. “We were an adventuring group of divine warriors, once upon a time.”

“Mostly divine,” Celeste corrected, softly.

Klauk nodded. “Mostly. I was head of them for thirty years, did you know that? Thirty years – and more – of adventure and excitement. Not anymore, though!”

“Now we’re the only ones left,” Celeste said, and then looked as if she wished she hadn’t spoken.

“Quite right! Ah well. Always a new opportunity to come out for another adventure, hmm?”

Val looked pained. “Sure,” he said, trying to hide the strain in his voice.

“It seems you’re a little stressed,” Klauk observed. “Why don’t we head to the Hart and we can talk there? I think I’d like to learn a little bit more about all of you, since Celeste and I will be joining you from now on!”

“Yes!” Manny said, with a smile. “We should go! Let’s go.”

Tam expected the walk to be awkward, but for some reason, just being around Klauk… put him at ease, somehow. It wasn’t that he wasn’t wary of danger; it’s just that he didn’t feel as anxious about it. _How odd,_ he thought, glancing over at the old man.

Even with this, though, he felt… upset, perhaps? Upset about Alfo being so easily replaced. One day he was here, and the next, he was simply gone, and now these strangers had taken his position.

Without a word, Tam dissolved into a flock of birds, whirling upwards and away from the group. “Oh,” Klauk said, watching him go. “Well, we’ll see you later, then! Have a nice flight!”

Tam didn’t want to leave the group behind, though he was certain they wouldn’t leave Osden without him. Still, he wanted to keep an eye on them; he’d stay near. He fluttered over the rooftop of the inn and down, onto the mostly flat shingles. There he sat, watching the world around him through many eyes.

Alfo had… made a decision. A series of decisions. And Tam wasn’t sure how those matched up with what he knew the world had laid out for him. For the Night Guard as a whole. Was it fate that Alfo be discovered in his plot? That he be deemed guilty? He remembered Val’s hesitation, Manny’s surprise. Was Val meant to vote him guilty? Was this what was pre-written in the threads of the world?

_Alfo reached out one hand and ran it along a pattern of dark thread that wove its way through the entire tapestry, black as soot and hard to look at. “This one,” he rumbled. “I choose this.”_

_“You choose death,” Selsia said quietly, “but whose death is up to you.”_

Heroes got to choose their own fate. Alfo had chosen a fate wreathed in death, filled with suffering and blood and pain. Was this the fulfillment of that fate? Was this the intended conclusion? To kill the King of Emberhearth? If he didn’t, would he fail, then, to follow his fated path?

The fact that he didn’t have definitive answers for these questions frustrated him to no end. He glowered at passers-by below; they spared the flock of crows no more than a glance or two.

No matter what he thought, he couldn’t affect the past now. There was nothing he could do. He’d refused to alter Alfo’s fate on his own, refused to condone or condemn him. And Alfo had chosen to try to fight the king of the dwarves, rather than simply accept his conviction. He’d chosen that, just as he’d chosen his fate to begin with. Perhaps it _was_ right to let this happen.

_“You choose death, but whose death is up to you.”_

If he sought death at the hands of Dagug Goldseeker, then perhaps that would be his intended end. Death after all.

Tam couldn’t bring himself to believe that Alfo could kill the king. He didn’t know much about Dagug Goldseeker, and he knew a great deal about Alfo, but he understood the difference between them, and he understood that Dagug Goldseeker was in a realm of capability far beyond what Alfo had ever achieved and _could_ ever achieve. No – there was no way he would beat the King, not in open combat. The King would strike him down. Tam knew they had seen Alfo for the last time.

Maybe in doing this, Alfo was closer to fulfilling his fate than any other member of the Night Guard.

Tam knew he himself had not yet walked his full path. It would be many, many years before he did that – perhaps he would _never_ truly do it. But if he never did, that was how it was meant to be. He knew Val hadn’t, because Val… well, for all his charm and skill, he was still… young, somehow. Not grown fully. He had a good distance to go before he really became someone of note. That wasn’t to discount how far he’d come already; no, it was just important to know that this wasn’t his end point. This wasn’t his maximum potential.

Manny’s fate was unknown to Tam. But that was fine. He got the feeling that he wasn’t meant to know it – not _now,_ anyways. No, that would be revealed to him in time, most likely. Or not at all – and that would be as fate intended, too.

He knew that uncertainty like this would frustrate Val to no end. Val liked answers, liked concrete knowledge. Manny was less demanding; he tended to accept whatever answers were given him.

Below him, the Night Guard entered the inn. Tam collected his birds to the roof and sat there, listening.

“Baron, hm?” Klauk said, nodding. “Of Tila? What’s it like, there? I haven’t been there myself in ages, no, I hope it’s gotten a bit better since then.”

“It has, yes,” Val said, and paused. “Well, I think. I don’t know what the people there think of all of the renovating and whatnot, which now that I think of it, seems like a bit of an oversight in management.”

“You don’t talk to your employees?”

Val sputtered. “Well, no – because I’ve spent all my time wandering around with these BARNACLES!”

These new people… Tam didn’t know or understand them. Not yet, anyway. He didn’t know how they would react in any given situation; he’d just have to observe them, see their patterns, their reactions, how they responded to events. How they dealt with Val, primarily. Val was a suspicious sort, even more now after Alfo’s trial.

He knew Val viewed it as a betrayal of their trust. But how could he not see that it was simply Alfo following his fate, like a bird following its path south in the fall? Inevitability was a part of fate, and to follow one’s fate was not a betrayal, it was a fulfillment. Alfo’s actions had not been taken because he wanted to harm the Guard; they’d been taken because he wanted to do what he thought he needed to do. What fate decreed he do. Val was wrong, there. Val thought everyone’s actions were their own. But all actions, in a way, were predetermined, unless they were taken in direct defiance of fate.

Why Val couldn’t see this, Tam didn’t know. But his cousin seemed to be _determined_ to believe that people could take whatever actions they pleased, never governed by any type of outside force. He didn’t seem to understand that there were set paths people had to walk, like the tracks the stars and moon walked across the sky, the circles the planes moved in around each other, the cycles of the seasons. Every person had their own part to play.

Fate was natural. Fate was inevitable. Fate was eternal.

Val didn’t understand that. But Tam did, and he knew that Alfo had not betrayed them. Alfo had never hidden his motives, not really, not from them – they’d just never asked. Never suspected him, never thought he might do something so wildly out of line with their thoughts and goals.

He could hear chatter through the open windows of the inn. Val’s voice, losing its hesitation, was talking, interspersed by questions and laughter from the newcomer. Klauk.

“So, you,” Klauk said, casually. “What the hell _are_ you, anyway? You never told us, Manny.”

“I’m a half snake person,” Manny said proudly. “A snerson.”

“Yeah, yeah! I’ve heard of snakes!”

_It seems that though we have gained two new compatriots, we have not gained any intelligence._

No one attacked them during the night, nor did any member of the party try to kill any other member, so Tam figured it was probably a successful integration.

Over the next few days, as they left Osden and headed back towards Tila, Celeste and Klauk were treated to a full explanation of the Night Guard’s tale so far – everything from their inauguration as Heroes to the present, even the strange distortion of time that had occurred back in Emberhearth with Syllariss.

“You haven’t by any chance heard of Syllariss, have you? Syllariss Spellweaver?” Val asked.

Klauk shook his head. “Can’t say that I have.”

“Nobody in the damn world has,” Val muttered, disgusted. “For fuck’s sake. Well, worth a try.”

_There’s nothing we can learn about him now, unless he reappears to tell it to us. He’ll have to remain a mystery. One we’re not meant to poke too deeply into._

It seemed, though, that their life was not done with changes that didn’t make sense, with alterations to their reality. When they returned to Tila, Redrick pulled them aside. “You might want to go and look at the mural in the ancestral tomb,” he said quietly to them, eyes darting back and forth so no one overheard. “It’s… well, go see for yourself.”

“Has someone done a vandalism?” Val asked, with a bored sigh.

“No, I don’t… I don’t _think_ so. If they have, it’s, uh, a very strange one.”

“Well, alright.” Val glanced at the group. “Coming?”

“Where are we going?” Klauk asked, jovial as always.

“There’s a tomb on Tila’s grounds that has a really weird mural in it,” Val said, as he headed towards one of the many doors leading out onto Tila’s grounds. “It was here when we first found the place, but it’s got us in it. Does anybody else feel like we’ve got an inordinately high number of weird things in our lives?”

“What’s the mural?”

As they proceeded across the grounds, Val described the mural – the four panels, the hazy smudges where something might’ve been, the singular clear one that had appeared after they’d dealt with the Dreadmire. It was striking, accurate, and they had no idea who’d painted it.

_Maybe he doesn’t. But I do. The Harvester._

The mural was in Tam’s own hand, his unique style. He could trace each brush stroke as if he’d made it himself. But he knew that he hadn’t – and that meant that it had been made by the one that wore his face, that worked with his hands. The Harvester. The writhing heap of worms in a cloak that had attacked them in the Underdark, speaking of dark secrets, of bloodlust.

The cape whispered in his mind. He’d fed it recently, but it was always hungry.

The tomb’s door was shut, but Val pulled it open with ease. He shivered stepping in; the place still held heavy memories of their recent encounter with his vampiric counterpart, and it showed on his face. Halfway down the stairs, Klauk snapped his fingers and summoned a tiny light that floated in the air, casting a warm golden glow on the surroundings.

“Right down here,” Val said, turning a small hallway and gesturing to the far wall. “It’s just –“

He stopped, staring. “Here,” he finished, dropping his hand.

The mural had changed. In several of the miniature murals, below the star-dragon’s massive wings, there were concrete images – the foggy, dead Dreadmire in one, in another a wedding party standing on the shore of a lake, in another –

“That’s the Rimespire!” Val said, pointing. “Look, there’s me and Alfo, going to the top, and there’s Duragfang! May he rest in fucking pieces.”

The rest of the mini-murals were still hazy; at the moment, there were four more, but Tam knew that number could change at any moment. His eyes were drawn to the center of the mural, to that dragon.

The mountain leading to the dragon was still there, for the moment. But the path now held five figures, not four. Alfo’s stout silhouette was gone, replaced by two different ones – figures that could only be Klauk and Celeste.

“That wasn’t there before,” Tam said, staring at it.

“Oh, look! It’s us!” Klauk said cheerfully, gesturing towards the figures. “That's very fun!”

The dragon overhead seemed more menacing than ever, its brilliant, monochrome eyes just bursts of light painted on the gray stone. The wings swept around the walls of the crypt; it felt almost as if it were approaching, encroaching on the world they lived in. _Whatever it is, it’s closer than it was before. To happening? To… emerging? We don’t know._

“That is odd,” Val mused. “And… correct me if I’m wrong, but this doesn’t seem like the kind of thing a vandal would do.”

“It changed on its own,” Tam confirmed. “Fate changed. So has it.”

“Delightful,” Val muttered. “I do so love to see my future toyed with like this.”

With nothing else to look at, they turned and left the crypt. The dragon’s eyes bored into Tam’s mind, though, and with that, the sense of its approach. It was coming. The future was coming. He only hoped that they would be prepared when that starry enemy made its appearance.

If they weren’t, well… he wasn’t sure Mythweald would survive.

**Author's Note:**

> Footnote: the exact quote regarding the group’s intelligence was actually from Val’s player, and said with absolutely no shred of irony, after discovering that while we’d swapped out some characters and leveled up, nobody had an intelligence over 12: “You know what, our group got older and wiser, but we didn’t get any more smarter!”  
> I couldn’t work this smoothly into the narrative, so I left it out, but I just wanted to share that with you.
> 
> Footnote 2: I am Val’s player.


End file.
